


event of the season

by toooldtotrickortreat



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Book 2: Wayward Son, Boys In Love, Canon Divergence, Chapter 46, Communication, Fluff, Holding Hands, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Not Beta Read, We Die Like Men, a little bit, it still needs some work but there was more than in wayward son that’s for sure, it's more implied from the book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 05:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toooldtotrickortreat/pseuds/toooldtotrickortreat
Summary: “I don’t think gay or straight or anything in between matters here, just good food.”Extension of ‘Wayward Son’ Chapter 46 when Simon has to “pretend” to be enchanted with Baz.





	event of the season

**SIMON**

_Then he wraps his arm around my waist, and presses his head into my neck. “Act like I’ve just picked you up. Act like you’re enchanted by me. Literally.” (Ha—_act_. Someday I’ll laugh about this. Someday maybe I’ll laugh about my whole awful life.) He pulls away, taking me by the hand and leading me forward._

_“Our hotel is the other way,” I say._

_He swings around and pulls me in the right direction. He’s eyeing me like I’m his fifth drink. (He’s pretending.) I’m looking like I’d follow him anywhere. (I’m not.)_

I feel eyes on us the whole way back, but not for the reason I’m used to. Back in London, we’d get dirty looks from middle-aged women in grocery stores just for being two blokes holding hands while looking for instant noodles. Now, in Vegas, vampires look at us with glee, at the next ‘victim’. I don’t think gay or straight or anything in between matters here, just good food.

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice Baz has stopped walking and turned towards me until I’ve walked straight into his chest. I go to step away but he grabs me by the waist and holds me against him, pulling me to stand out of the way of the crowds by a storefront. He ducks his head down to my neck again and whispers: “I think we’re being watched.”

“What?” I ask. “By who? Lamb?”

“Maybe,” he mutters, wrapping both of his arms around me just above my hips. “How would I know? Ugh. Whatever. And we’ve been walking too long. I think they’re getting suspicious of us. I haven’t pulled you into an alleyway yet.”

I grunt, hesitantly leaning into him as his lips brush my skin with each syllable. I haven’t decided if I feel comfortable with this yet. But I don’t think he’d be doing it if he didn’t think it was necessary to keep up the act.

It shouldn’t have to be an act. And it isn’t. Not for me, at least.

**BAZ**

As we stand here, the stares of other vampires feel less calculative than they did before. I watch what the other ones do with their human partners. (I refuse to acknowledge what they actually are, because that would be acknowledging what I’m trying to make Simon look like to them.) They’re all wrapped up in each other, some more … obscenely than others. There’s a couple basically dry-humping a few buildings down, and several vampires are sucking on their partners’ necks as they walk. I can’t tell if they’re giving hickies or sucking them dry.

Simon has his arms wrapped around my neck and is twirling locks of my hair between his fingers. I turn my head on his shoulder to look up at him. He seems to be staring at nothing, lost in thought. (Or not-thought, since when we first got together he informed me that he tries not to think.)

It feels so casual, what we’re doing right now. Just being connected, physically at least. It’s a step in the right direction.

I wish we could do this all the time.

**SIMON**

I wish he would hold me like this more. He's mouthing along my jawline down to the junction between my neck and shoulder, then back up again. I wonder if he's hungry. I wonder if I should ask. I wonder if I should push him away. (The answer is: probably. Yes. But I don't. I still feel in control; everything still feels fine.) My breathing goes raspy and I card my fingers through his silky black hair.

I wish we'd do this more often.

**BAZ**

“Snow,” I whisper, trying to grab his attention. He huffs. “Snow!” He turns his head lazily to look at me. “We should head back. Bunce is probably wearing holes in the carpet.” With a soft grunt, he nods, but neither of us moves. He grabs a handful of my hair and doesn’t let go; I lock my arms tight around his waist and pull him impossibly closer.

“Baz, I—” he begins, but doesn’t continue. I wait for him to figure out his words. (The last time I told him to ‘use his words’, he locked his bedroom door for three days and wouldn’t let anyone in.) “I want to keep doing this. Forever. I just— I don’t know how.”

“You’re doing pretty well right now,” I tease, revelling in the hand he has locked in my hair, tugging slightly as he gets frustrated. It’s all I can do not to moan.

“_No_,” he insists. “I don’t know how to do anything. Especially with you.”

“There’s no rules,” I shrug. “We can figure it out.”

“We’ve been pretty shite at that so far,” he points out, letting go of my hair only to push it back from my forehead and rest his hand there, running his thumb across my widow’s peak.

“We still have time,” I say, and he grins, all teeth. Reluctantly, I unwind my arms from around him and he does the same. Without missing a beat, though, he grabs my hand and interlocks our fingers. We’re practically glued shoulder to ankle the whole way back. I realise a block down from our hotel that I haven’t had anything to drink in far too long. Simon whispers encouragements to me, assuring me _‘We’re nearly there’_ and _‘Soon’_, even though I’m fully aware we’re about two minutes from the room.

After eating and debriefing, Simon and I flop into the bed furthest from the door, curled up facing each other with our hands in between us. I reach out and cup both his curled fists between my palms. He lifts both our pairs of hands and presses his lips to my knuckles. I grin, and he grins back.

I still don’t know how to tell him I love him. I don’t really know how to show it. But I think he knows, so I know we’ll make it.

**SIMON**

I do love him.

“Baz,” I whisper while we’re both half-asleep. He cracks an eye open to look at me.

“Snow,” he replies.

“I wasn’t acting.”

He smiles, closing his eyes and taking my hand. “Me neither.”

**Author's Note:**

> I read a review of Wayward Son which said the book could have done with being longer (I agree wholeheartedly), and mentioned this scene, so I decided to do it myself and double it as creative writing practice for an English exam in a couple of weeks. The beginning section in italics is straight out of Wayward Son btw. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (This ended up being more canon divergence-y than I originally intended but that’s okay because I liked writing it.)


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